We Drive Tonight
by KickingRoses
Summary: Christmas fic. Vince has something special planned for Howard this Xmas Eve. Most probably will end up a Howince.
1. The List

**A/N: I will *try* and continue this but I know I'm terrible at starting fics and never finishing them. I also know all I've written so far is angst. So this is a fun, sweet, fluffy seasonal fic for the Xmas season. Dedi to Verity for her gorgeous fic she just started which gave me the boost of inspiration to do this. Reviews are advent calander chocolate Love!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Mighty Boosh or any of the characters used. They belong to the gorgeous, fuzzy man-peach known as Julian Barratt and the beautiful, charming, hilareous imp that is Noel Fielding. I also don't own Christmas either; God, Jesus, Mary, Santa, Coca Cola and whoever else do. (Just in case).**

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_Vince,_

_Been called away on urgent Occult business. Tony Harrison is hosting the annual Shaman Board Christmas party at his bungalow in Kent this year. Staying for the weekend and taking Bollo with me (mainly for protection, as Mrs. Harrison always gets a bit violently lary on the sherries). Mentioned it to Howard in passing but you were asleep when we left at 11 a.m. _

_I'm leaving you in charge of course, ignore what Howard says. Feel free to close the shop early today and don't bother opening tomorrow, but you better be open Boxing Day, which we should be back by that night. Make sure no punks or green man-witches mess up the place again. And DO NOT TOUCH ANYTHING from my cabinet. I mean that. Also, if I come back and find out you and Howard have got yourself into another ridiculous mess, then you'll both be fired. _

_Lastly - and this is mainly why I've written this just for your eyes - if you're gonna go anywhere with Chandra then BE EXTRA CAREFUL and remember to take good care of her. Don't take her to far either._

_Have a good Xmas (Well, try. sorry it's just you and him. Shaman's only, you know),_

_See you Boxing Day,_

_N._

_From Bollo - Precious Vince keep warm and eat good Xmas meal. Don't let Idiot bore you._

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

This is genius!

Good old Naboo. He's such a diamond. Always comes through for you, even when he don't realise it. 'Course he don't realise a lot of things, a lot of the time, the amount of 'stuff' he takes. Me and Howard have took turns on his 'stash' a couple of times. Just a whiff from his pipe. I was able to take it like a normal man. Felt a bit dizzy, had to sit down, talked to a purple seahorse who was on his way to a Bon Jovi concert, all that rubbish. Howard on the other hand…Well, let's just say YouTube obviously enjoyed the outcome, I'm assuming from 1,045,400 hits. I'm a bit of a technophobe but Leroy said that's impressive. Maybe Howard's related to that light-weight head-shaman. Y'know, the one who wanted to chop my head off last year? Yeah, him. Nice fellah. He does look similar to Howard.

I'm doing it again, aren't I? Sorry. I always get easily distracted. Don't see why people think that's such a strange habit though. There are so many wonderful things in life; how your poor little brain cell can just stay focused on ONE, is way beyond me. You'd have to have loads of the funky little people in your mind tank.

What I was meant to be talking about was…oh yeah - Naboo! He's gone away for the weekend. This weekend also happening to be Christmas weekend. Shit, I just LOVE Christmas! I love the songs, the decorations, the snow, the costumes, the shopping. I mean if you know me then you'd know how much I love shopping any other day - but Christmas shopping! It's sommat else, it really is. I've gotta get something extra special for Naboo seeing as he's done me this little treat this year. He likes Fleetwood Mac, don't he? I'll see if I can ring them up, via one of my 'contacts' and see if they wouldn't mind paying Naboo a visit at Tony Harrison's place. Never met them but I'm always able to persuade people, just by the use of my voice. I know - it's amazing, ain't it? Maybe I was a witch in another life.

Feeling the chill, I wrap my thick leopard skin coat around myself, stuffing my hands in the plush pockets. Not real leopard skin at all. I do have my morals. I was a zookeeper once after all, I'll have you know. I look around now and I notice how Camden ain't that much different from a zoo. Strangely, it's more chaotic (a word Howard taught me). Just as wild as my old home in the forest was too. Everyone's rushing around to buy their last minute shopping. Cheesy old Christmas hits are booming out onto the street. A fake Santa Clause is holding a bucket for a charity collection at the corner of the street. Yes, I **know** he's a fake Santa! I'm not as dumb as people like Howard and Naboo think I am. Christy. I know perfectly well Santa is busy working his big red arse off in Greenland preparing for his big job tonight. Cor, imagine only having to work one night a year, as well as getting handed mince pies and beer to you on the way? Unbelievable.

Still, as I pass his imposter, I toss in about five euros. He gives me a jolly smile beneath his fake beard. His old eyes twinkle thankfully at me.

"Bless ya, ma'am. Merry Christmas!" He booms. He does a good Santa voice, I'll give him that.

"Merry Christmas, mate." I grin back. I then continue my stroll, shopping bags swinging to the rhythm of the season from my arm.

Could I add the real Santa to 'The List'? Nah, he wouldn't be home, would he? Duh, Vince. Anyway, it's meant to be me on _his_ list. Hopefully I'm on the right one this time. I've tried to be a lot less of a tit this year then I was last. Not just because the only presents I got last year were a single glitzy glove from Howard, a banana from Bollo and a note reading **'Not Good Enough. From S.C'** under the tree. (Ouch!) Mainly, to the point, 'cause it hit me how much of a self-absorbed prat I'd been that year. Especially to Howard. That whole incident with the Black Tubes and Sammy the Crab was just what I needed to bring me back down to Earth. Since then I've tried extra hard to make it up to him. I mean, he's my best friend, ain't he? He's always been there beside me. Ever since I left the forest. Yeah, he's still as much a vein, boring, deluded, Jazz-obsessed, walking corduroy nightmare as ever. But that's just Howard for you. And that's the way I love him.

What? Don't give me that look! Yeah - I said I _love_ him. That really such a shock to you, is it? We've been best friends for ten years, 'course I love him. Come on, why else would I hang around him for? The pencil case stories? Well, ok, they are slightly more intriguing then I let it show. Joke! I just love having him to talk to me. Properly. Not nagging me to do stock-taking or sort out the shelves or throw out the bin-bags. Not taking the micky out of the music I put on the stereo. Not having a go 'cause I might be a bit slow or dim a times. Just talking to me like he cares what I think, like what I have to say matters, which means he respects me. That's where the real change has happened this year though. All that bickering is still there, when we're at work, and it's probably worse than it was before. All my mates who come in to see me witness me and Howard going at each other, then ask me why I even hang around him if he gets on my wick so much. There lies the secret! Because once sweet 5:30 p.m comes round and the shop is closed, we go upstairs - and we may as well step into two different people. We don't take that bitterness from the long, hard day with us. Not like we sometimes used to. I've helped make sure of that. Now we go upstairs, one of us collapses on the sofa whilst the other makes a cup of nice warm tea, then we both put our feet up, one of us says something light-hearted about the day, we laugh - and all is good, my friend. It's more than good. It's…sorry, I ain't got one of those thesaurus things on me at the moment. Ask me later.

That's why I'm so happy about this Christmas. It's just gonna be me and Howard. Like it used to be back in the zoo, when we'd have the most pathetic decorations in our little shack and the flimsiest Christmas tree that was more like a rotting bush - but it didn't matter. We'd open our presents without even leaving our sleeping bags. Then we'd go to Naboo's kiosk for Christmas dinner, have a walk around the zoo, before going back to the hut and curling up on the sofa together, a beer in each of our hands, in front of some good old cheesy Christmas telly. Most of the time we'd get so drowsy and tipsy, we'd just end up giggling like plebs until we fell asleep on each other. To think, it's gonna be like those old times again. Not that I don't love Naboo and Bollo to bits. But it's a bit hard to enjoy the rush and fun of Christmas when you've got the fumes of a hookah stuffing up the flat. Not to mention Bollo's not a big fan of Christmas. I think the story behind this was something along the lines of: _"Chinco keep asking for golden ball-bearings for Xmas tree. But my Father say we only able to afford silver ball-bearings 'cause of Credit Crunch. But Chinco say 'Please Bollo. Please can we get golden ball-bearings'. Over and over and over. So, finally, one day, I chopped his-"_ Yeah, I don't really need to finish that, do I. That's probably the one thing he and Howard have in common though; lack of Christmas spirit.

I'm now coming over towards Camden Lock. The water's frozen solid and kids and couples are out ice-skating on it. I stand on the bridge and just take a moment to watch them all. There's a man in thick black parka on there just below me. He's twirling around his two little kids, a son and a daughter, their smiles almost stretching off the sides of their bright little faces. Their laughter rises up to me and traps me in a whirlwind of innocent wonder. They seem the happiest ones on there from my view. I'm being a proper spectator here. Others on the water seem more nervous, worried or seem to have been dragged on their against their will. Then I notice some other people shining from the crowd. A young couple - mid-twenties? - a girl with long red hair under a pretty last-week but comfy blue, woolen, snow hat, gripping the hands of her tall dark-haired boyfriend, pulling her towards him whilst their skates slide elegantly along the ice.

Now I don't normally envy people. I'm usually on the receive end of that emotion. What I would give though to go down onto that ice… I could always rent some skates - I've bought some stickers and badges so I could customise them well before using them for the two hours. It's not the point though. They're not smiling just because they're skating, though it does look pretty genius on it's own. It's something else. Something I'm missing that can't just be grabbed from the near-by shops.

I suppose I could always add that to the list. Right? Nah, he'd never wanna go. He'd think it was gay. Bit ironic, considering it should be fitting for a former 'Massive Gayest!'.

Pushing my hand down inside the pocket of my skinnies, I drag out the slightly crumbled piece of paper I ripped from the shop notepad this morning. I then pulled out a biro I'd nicked from Howard's 'Stationary Village' set and, leaning the paper on the bridge rail, I added another bullet point to the four already written.

Oh well, there'd be no harm in just asking him, would there? Hopefully he'll be a bit tipsy by then, or at least I'll be, and he'll be able to indulge me. Just flash the old dazzling Noir eyes. That's not right is it? My eyes are blue. Doesn't Noir mean 'black'? Ok, now I see why Bryan always told me to pay attention in French class. It's not entirely my fault though - Howard, for all his anal ways, wasn't exactly always the attentive kid in school. No more so than I was. I lost count the amount of times we ended up in detention 'cause we were discovered at the back of the class coming up with our very first crimps or new adventures we could make up once school finished.

I've always loved our adventures. We never mean for them to turn out as wildly as they do, weirdly enough. And sometimes, yeah, they can be a bit 'Aaaaargh!' you know. Especially the ones where we almost die. It always turns out ok in the end though. Usually thanks to Naboo. Or, failing that, my own never-ending strokes of luck - helped by whatever hair products I have on me.

Tonight was gonna be a different story though. There wasn't gonna be any pointless mission for lost treasures that didn't belong to us. There wasn't gonna be any travelling into lands with retarded kings or leaders that would want to either kill us or rape us (yeah, it's usually me for the latter. Though there was the time with Howard and that merman…). Nah. Tonight was gonna be special. I've been preparing for it for months. Naboo's been helping me. He doesn't know how much or why. And Howard has no idea why I've been passing nights off with him to spend time with Naboo. Gee, I hope he doesn't think I've been avoiding him because I just didn't wanna spend time with him. That would defeat the whole point of all this effort really.

He won't think that after tonight though, if he does. He'll be, if all goes to plan, happy. Not that he hasn't been happier lately with me and him being better than we were. It's just he doesn't smile the way he used to. He doesn't have the same eagerness, excitement or zest to be a great Man of Action or superstar that used to get me so ambitious when we were younger. He just looks so bored. Tired. Except when we're together though and we're joking about the days events or tossing satsuma's at each other - then he smiles like the Howard I remember, if only for a minute or two. I'm hoping that tonight's events will leave him smiling for weeks on end.

Honestly, I know this is the ultimate seasonal jinx, but - it's gonna be the best Christmas ever!

And just as I'm stuffing the list back in my pocket, a snow-ball whacks me hard in the jaw.

"Got 'im, Dad!" A squeaky voice from below me chirps.

I wipe the icy slush off my face, peering through my slightly smudged kohl-rimmed eyelids to see the one of the two kids - the little boy - down on the ice, now grinning victoriously up at me. I'm not mad though. I'm not even annoyed. I'm just filled with that same burst of hot envy like I was before. Even more so when the kid's old man skates towards him and scoops him up into his arms, quietly rebuking the boy. The dad turns his head to look up at me.

"Sorry about that!" He calls up.

I just smile and shake my head; "It's nothing, don't worry. 'E was just havin' fun."

"Say sorry, Jake." The man tells the now blushing boy he's holding. Jake looks up to me.

"Sorry, Mister." He squeaks. Cor, now I feel guilty, how does that work?

"S'alright Jake. Don't worry, I won't tell Santa!" I can't help but laugh at the coy look on his little face. He's got the same eyes on him that I use when someone - usually Howard - yells a me for doing something stupid, yet all I have to do is flash those eyes and Howard's face sinks with regret at having been harsh on me. Then, to make it up to me, he sometimes gives me a present or lets me open Gary's cupboard for a bit. Pure magic!

I wish the kid and his dad a 'Merry Christmas' before turning to leave. I'd promised Howard I'd only be gone a couple of hours. I still needed some more bits to get, as much as a part of me would've loved to have just stayed at that spot on the bridge and watch the folks skating some more. Then I remember something I heard in a film once. _"Life's not a spectator's sport; if you're gonna spend your whole life watching - then you're gonna watch your whole life fly right past you."_ Just as that thought goes through my mind, a flash of red hair and laughter whizzes past me, almost spinning me around in it's wake. The couple that I'd watched on the ice earlier are now running before me, chasing each other with the energy and buzz of a couple of school kids, on their own personal plane absent from the cars and shoppers around them. The boyfriend - whose being chased - pauses behind a lamppost and catches his girl just as she speeds up to him. He swings her around in the same whimsical movement he did on the frozen water before bringing her in for a snog. Some passing kids wolf-whistle, while a group of old ladies by the bus-stop scoff, though I think they're the same ones who blindingly joined in the Nanageddon revolt. The couple takes no notice, wrapped tight and snug in their embrace, their eyes closed contently. They really are in their own private world.

I just watch them with a twitching grin. Then I remember the time on my watch and force my stiff feet to continue walking down the street. Dunno why my grin is twitching or why my feet are stiff. It is really cold. I'm wrapped up in furriest, most-fashionable winter gear I could find, though if I'd listened to Howard's whining I'd be looking like one of those parka-people from the Arctic. At least it's not just because I know he hates winter and, even more weirdly, hates Christmas (Always has. Don't ask me why. I've never figured it out). He worries about me. I like that.

No worries tonight though. I'm ready. Naboo thinks I'm ready so that's good enough. Just you wait, Howard. I'm gonna restore your Christmas spirit, by taking you for the ride of your life.

_Oh My God!_

Sale on at Topshop. Gotta go.

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**A/N2: Just a quick start to get you all juiced up. More of a prologue really, a weak one at that. Soz if I've made mistakes. Just...lower your expectations. There you go! Oh look, nice review button. Why don't you press it? You might get a sweet :) xx**


	2. DrWho and the Grotto Whore

**A/N: Yaaaay, I finally managed an update! I'm exhausted from it so I won't bother saying much here. This chapter's dedi to Hattie (violence4) for the promise of us *someday* going to see the Amstell in London together. SimonSquees! And also thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far, it really has meant a lot and spurned me to write this update quicker, knowing you like the story. You're all darlings. Apologies if I've made some typos. I've scanned over it a few times but my eyes are sore.**

**Disclaimer: Ugh, again? I don't own anything!!**

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When you've spent the last seven hours working your arse off on Christmas Eve, all you want to do is just close up, go home and collapse on the T.V with a good old book or the latest copy of the Global Explorer. That's all perfectly acceptable, isn't it? Thank you. I knew I was right. You do not expect to come trudging up the stairs only to trip on a bit of tinsel your half-wit roommate has left scattered on the floor and land flat on your face.

"Argh…_Vince!_" I groan aloud, my nose pressed against the floorboards.

I don't expect him to come bouncing down the hallway to my aid or even to give me an apology. He doesn't even reply to me. He's been locked in his room for the past hour doing god-knows-what. Though I bet my bottom dollar it involves those beloved hair straighteners of his. So therefore I have no choice but to push myself to my feet. God forbid the electro ponce should give a second thought to me or that I may have broken my neck because of his untidiness. I stand up, rubbing my head and looking around the place with a swelling of disdain and repulsion.

Seriously. You'd think we'd just entered Santa's Grotto. Either that or a gay stag-night setting. The walls are glistening with strips of tinsel of all different colours. Holly lines the edges of the ceiling and bells with mistletoe dangle over wherever I choose to stand. If I didn't know better I'd say Naboo had enchanted them on Vince's request to do that, just to annoy me. Four stockings surround the T.V spot, each knitted by the Camden prince himself, though each customised to how they represent each of us here in the flat. None of them are the traditional red velvet. In fact the only thing that keeps them resembling a stocking is that they're in the shapes of a giants unwanted sock. Vince's is made of silver sequins ("THIS is the mirror ball stocking!") and beside it is my version. The tweed version.

Why does he always associate me with tweed? It's not as if all my clothes are made out of tweed. Just my favourites. Though, if you keep on looking at it, it does look pretty good. Not sight pollution like everything else cluttering this flat up for 'the Season'. Naboo's stocking is made from Middle-eastern gypsish material, of enough colours to keep him entertained when he gets stoned. Whereas Bollo's is light orange, a sort of peaches colour. Heaven know why.

Of course, the real eye-sore of the place is that ghastly thing in the far corner, just in front of the window. Draped in rainbow lights and ball-bearings (no gold ones for some reason) plus flimsy decorations Vince made from when we were back at the zoo. Look at it. Towering over everything else in the flat - the prickly green beast.

It reminds me of that bony cockney gangster I had to gallantly fight off when he dared to enter the shop last year and extort money. Oh yes, he sure learned never to mess with Howard T.J Moon. I was able to do what had to be done, make the sacrifices and take the risks needed to be taken, in order to protect the shop. To protect Vince. He needs protecting, a lot of the time, you see. He's only small. And not the shiniest bassoon in the brass band. It's just a shame I'm not able to protect him from being sucked into the commercialism of this predictable gold-digging holiday. Just look at how much money he's wasted from having worked this year, admittedly having actually worked somewhat this year, to blow it all on fairy lights and a monstrous tree. It's not like I haven't tried to tell him how pointless it all is. I just may as well try telling Bollo that King Kong has already been cast, made and released on DVD.

After giving my usual frown and disapproving shake of the head to the Christmas tree, I step back and let myself fall on the sofa, landing with a sharp painful thud as something sharp digs into my upper thigh. I groan, leaning over to dislodge whatever I've sat on. Pulling it out, I see that I've landed on a dradel, the one Vince brought while he was out at Camden earlier as a present for Leroy. He's a Buddhist - but from what he's asked for the holidays, I doubt he knows much about his own religion.

Just as I toss it onto the coffee table, Vince comes bounding in from the hallway, only two minutes after I swore his name after tripping over.

"Alright Howard! Did you call for me?"

I just roll my eyes, not even looking at him. I grab the remote to turn on the T.V. At least I've got some good programming to look forward to tonight. I've been eagerly awaiting this precious time ever since reading the T.V guide this morning. Then I remember Vince is still wanting an answer.

"Never mind." I say, tired. "Just that I happened to trip over some of your decorations and nearly break my neck if it's any concern to you."

"Yeah, m'sorry about them. I guess I have gone a little bit overboard this year."

I don't even need to reply. Just Vince admitting to being 'a little overboard' is a wonder in itself.

"But, c'mon, Howard, it is Christmas after all! The whole point is to make a load of fuss for no real reason. Even you've gotta be getting into the spirit wit the effort I've put in this year." He chirps at me. You'd almost think he believed his own words.

I just scoff. If anything Vince's 'efforts' have had the opposite effect on me this year. The same as they do every year. I knew it was expected for shops to put up some holly and tinsel for the season. The most I was expecting to come down to one morning after leaving Vince to decorate was maybe a tree up in the window and a Slade CD on the stereo. Painting white beards on the faces of all the singers on my Jazz records I had up in the shop wasn't. Nor was stealing a rein-deer and keeping it out the back in a make-shift pen for kids to come and pet whilst their parents were shopping. I had to put my foot down on that one, especially when the git tried to ram me with his antlers. ("What d'you expect? He heard about you and Jack Cooper. You've got a reputation!"). Animal control were round within moments and taking the stupid creature away. I never thought I'd be able to cheer Vince up from the sulk-fest he put on after that. He soon forgot it though when I made him a Snowball drink which he loves. Yeah, I know, I'm to soft. I give in to easily. It's just those eyes of his. Just the thought of those blue sparkles being dimmed gives me the shivers.

Apart from the Snowball drinks though, the most Vince's attempts at setting up the place for the season have just shoved it even more so in my face how much it exasperates and annoys me. By it I mean everything. The terrible songs, the hideous decorations and not to mention that extortion from the sales companies. We're supposed to be in a recession! Not that I'd bother trying to explain what a recession was to Vince. Again. Last time I tried he just wondered why we couldn't have Naboo just magic some money up and put it in the world's bank.

"I don't get sucked in by the devil's temptations, Vince." I say at last, with a heavy sigh. "I'm my own man. A free man. I don't open my wallet to fork out for others just because some random date on a calendar tells me to."

"You don't open your wallet to fork out for others anytime." He shoots back. "It's been four years, Howard - I had to buy my own sodding Hoola Hoops last week 'cause I realised you were never gonna get them."

I kept forgetting about them. Though I should be more concerned how he's prepared to wait four years just for me to get him a bag of crisps until he gets them himself. A comeback shines alight in my head.

"Well then I taught you a good lesson there, didn't I? A lesson of inde-" I turn my head to look at him for the first time since he'd entered the room. My jaw drops. "What are you wearing?!"

Vince grins. He flounces over to stand in front of the television to give me a full look at his attire. Not that I'd asked for it. It seemed my flat-mate had morphed from Electro Poof to Grotto Whore. He appeared to have dyed a pair of his skinnies a festive green, attaching jingle bells onto the circumference of his belt that brought a melody to every movement of his body. His mirror ball future-sailors top had been shrunk to stick to his skinny torso, whilst the sleeves remained somewhat loose. All he'd needed to top himself off would've been a Santa's hat - though I then noticed he had two earrings in the shape of said items dangling from his ear lobes. His face is also made up to near chalk-white, his eyes rimmed with neatly applied jet-black kohl and blue glitter eye-shadow, whilst his lips were smeared with a vivid violet lipstick.

He was obviously set to go out somewhere. I sat back in my seat as an odd gnawing feel began to grow in my chest as I kept looking at him twinkling away in front of me; the human disco-ball.

"What d'you think?" He finally beams, doing a twirl. The outfit was no less outrageous on the back as it was on the front, as I noticed the words _'Bon Noel' _sewn into the back in fine italic black letters. The jeans also rode up as they almost did, emphasising the pert shape of his arse. I shook my head.

"Vince, do you know what Bon Noel means?" I ask him doubtfully.

He spins back round to face me. "Sure I do."

"What does it mean then?"

"It's the name of the tailor, ain't it? Bon Noel something. Probably Jean Claude Jacquette's son by the looks of these hems. You could only get that sort of stitching skills given to you by blood." says Vince as he fingers the fine material of his cuff.

Don't worry. I didn't bother.

"So c'mon, what d'you think?" He asks a second time with as much desperation.

I'm a bit taken back. Vince never, ever, _ever _asks for my opinion on any of his clothes or how he's made himself look on a night to go out on a one-off date with one of his Camden dollybirds. He never asks for my opinion on anything. Perhaps because he thinks I'll just criticize his looks or his taste in acquaintances. Which, I suppose, I would. Just as I have before. I'm only looking out for the little tit-box. Why can't he ever see that? How does he ever think of going out in public like that? Some of his out-fits I can just about handle, even though my eye-doctor recommends the protection of glasses. But…that!

"Howard?" He presses again. I then realise that I've just been staring at him blankly for the past ten slow seconds.

"Vince. You look ridiculous. You look like a prop for Michael Jackson's Neverland."

There I said it.

And soon enough I'm wishing I hadn't. Vince's face drops with a rush of hurt. His bright eyes soften darkly, and once again I'm feeling that sharp spike in my chest that makes me bite down on my tongue. But he wanted to hear what I thought. That was it. You don't get small doses of humble reality with Howard Moon; you get hard-hitting truth bullets. Vince was still frowning at me.

_You don't understand. I didn't mean it like that. **You** don't look ridiculous - just the out-fit. You as you could never be ridiculous. You're beautiful. You're stunning._

None of those words make it to my lips, thank God. Even I'm questioning my own brain's vocabulary. Beautiful? Stunning? A bit much maybe… I just don't think he needs all that stupid muck on him. It just spoils him. Making a huge effort for a masterpiece already completed. It was just pointless, sir.

Vince's hurt doesn't remain for very long and soon his lips twitch into a sarcastic smirk which bounces my insult right off as normal. He stands tall, proud of himself and his looks. No matter what anyone thinks. Even me. What am I saying? Especially me.

"Just because you could never pull of something this genius."

"Oh woe is me." I indulge him. "Now can you move out of the way please and get to wherever it is you're sodding off to, I wanna watch the T.V, thank you."

"What?! It's Christmas Eve, Howard. You can't sit at home watching T.V on the best night of the year! C'mon, let's go out. Let's do something. Something big!" He says excitedly, clapping his hands together and bouncing in front of me.

I can't help but raise an eyebrow at him. He wants me to come with him? Out? Tonight? We only ever go out together if we're doing a gig down at the Onion or, in the Summer, going down to the pub. Apart from those few moments it's been such a while since Vince asked me to go out with him anywhere. I always refused, of course. A man of such elegant stature and supremacy such as myself shouldn't be seen bopping around with the silly, mindless, electro drones of the London underworld. Plus I knew Vince wouldn't want me there, with him, 'cramping his style'. At least that's what I'd thought.

Now, all of a sudden, he was asking me to go out with him? Why - just because it was Christmas and the sunshine kid was feeling 'charitable'?

"Howard, please! Don't look at me like that." He says after a while.

"Like what?"

"Like you're already doubting what a wicked night it will be before you even know what we're doing or how it's gonna go." He moves to sit down next to me on the sofa, his bells jingling his own theme tune. "Look, how long has it been since we went out, ey? Just me and you."

I think for a few moments. Then, "I give up."

"Exactly!"

"We spend every day and, more or less, every night together, Vince." I reason.

"Yeah, here in the flat or down in the shop, and that's genius but," he continues, his eyes shining their enchanting light through the glitter and soot frames. "Don't you remember when we used to go places together? All those little weird holidays we'd always go on?"

"Uh, they weren't exactly holidays, were they, little man? They were more like life-threatening dangerous quests into the darkest nether-regions of the cosmos where, more often than not, we would end up seconds away from a slow and agonising death."

"Still - they were a laugh. Weren't they?"

I fail to suppress a chuckle. It would never fail to amaze me how my friend manages to find amusement out of the grimmest of situations. No wonder when we ended up facing the jaws of death we'd end up singing about soup or sticklebacks. Maybe that's another reason why I love keeping the electro boy around me as much as possible. A reassurance that, should Death wish to knock for me, again, I'll have someone with me in my last moments to bring a bit of light to be before I pass on.

Though I can't admit it to Vince, for obvious reasons, I have to admit that I have missed spending proper time with him, out and about like we used to. Working in the shop together and having to be Nagging Boss vs. Insolent Employee is a struggle, yet the time we spend together in peace and freedom afterwards in the flat makes up for it. But it still doesn't beat the days we used to spend together, going off to far-off exotic lands in search of something or other, or even just walking around the open-air of a zoo together. Suddenly, I notice, I'm already starting to talk myself into agreeing.

I sigh and shake my head defiantly. More to myself than to Vince. "No. I'm just not one for the club-scene, you know that."

"I'm not talking about the club-scene."

"What then?"

Vince is practically glowing by this stage.

"I was thinking; how about another holiday? Another adventure."

"You want us to go on another adventure? On Christmas Eve?" I can't really see where Vince is heading with this one. It feels as if he's lulling me into some sort of trap I'd quickly regret as usual. "An adventure to do what?"

"Not to do anything. Not go looking for any Egg of Mantumbi or Fountain of Youth. No rushing off to put some junkie rodent to sleep or sort out a tranny merman whose got the hots for you. Just me and you, having fun, doing _something_. Like we used to. Together."

Just for a second, my heart skips a beat. Just for a second.

"Where exactly would this adventure take place?" I ask with uncertainty.

"Anywhere we want. That's the beauty of it. We can do anything. Tonight, your wish is my command, my friend." He tells me with a burst of magnanimous confidence as he lifts his chin.

I'm trying very hard not to just shoot his plan down in flames here. Business may have been doing well for the seasonal period, admittedly, but the way Vince was going you would have thought we were rolling in cash. He also obviously didn't understand the hassle of booking airline tickets to go "anywhere we want." Let alone providing the cash to do "anything". Life must be such a simple out-look for him. Those rainbow-tinted glasses seemed permanently attached to his face.

So I have to turn him down on his offer. It's the only way he'll learn. Plus, I slowly get the sinking feeling that he's only asking me out because it's Christmas Eve and his other mates probably have plans. That must be it. Well, Howard Moon is nobody's fall-guy.

"I'm sorry Vince. But I've been looking forward to watching my television and enjoying putting my feet up all day. I'm not gonna blow that off just because you wanna go on some silly little trip 'cause you're bored."

"But Howard-!"

"NO. I said No, Vince. Just leave it at that." I tell him in my firmest possible voice. He's looking at me with those sunken eyes again but I refuse to give in. Instead I turn my head and face the T.V. I'm not just shrugging the little guy off to upset him. Honestly. I'm not. There's a live streaming tonight from one of my favourite Jazz bands in a special concert on BBC4 in less than an hour. I can't miss it. Not for Vince.

Vince.

Vince whose still sitting next to me and just pouting miserably. I'm know he's there but I'm not gonna acknowledge him. The same you do to a cat glancing up at you as it begs for some extra kibble. I just won't give in. Eventually he huffs inwardly. He gets to his feet, bells a-tinkling, and grabs that multi-fabric shiny cape that Naboo gave him last year. He retrieved it rather quickly from the tramp who'd O.D'd on Shaman Juice. He ties it around his neck, draping it around himself and looking even more so like a gay super-hero. He turns to me with a face of stone.

"Fine. If that's the way you want it, Howard, then fine. Stay here and watch your boring T.V. I'm off."

As he says each word, he steps back towards the window of the flat. My eyes narrow, confused. I watch as he pulls open the window, a gust of icy wind instantly breezing into the heated room and makes me shudder. Vince just holds it open, edging ever more closer to it, before placing the heel of his silver boot on the window ledge. I leap to my feet.

"Vince! What you doing? Get away from there! You're gonna slip!" I cry out, genuinely frightened that he would.

My words fall on deaf-ears as Vince continues to push himself out of the open window. He's acting so eerily calm throughout all of this. He doesn't even look upset at my rejection to his offer. What is he playing at? I could hear the rapid beat of my heart echoing up to pound in my skull. I want to run up and drag the tiny idiot back inside, into the safety and warmth, but I'm somewhat mesmerised by what Vince was trying to do. I can't move my blasted feet. Vince is now pressed up on the other side of the glass, his boots still balanced perfectly on the outer ledge, whilst his hands grip onto one of the pipes running down the side of the house.

Was Vince that thick? No. Scratch that. Was Vince insane? I don't have the faintest idea what he's trying to prove. I'd only said I wouldn't go out with him. Surely that wouldn't be so bad as to lead him to something as drastic as…

Vince looks at me through the glass. He gives me his usual mega-watt grin as if this was his usual way of exiting the flat. For the first time in ages, I find myself terrified again.

He winks at me. "See ya then, Howard!" And then-

"VINCE!"

He jumps backwards. And he's gone.

My legs finally break free of their roots and I run forwards.

Vince. Vince, _no_…

I reach the window and craned my head sharply over the side. My chest is heaving. I peer down onto the pavement below and begin to scan for the inevitable sight of Vince's body shattered flat on the pavement outside the closed shop. Snowdrops land on my nose and I sneeze. I scan through the falling white flecks to try and see Vince. To see if he's still moving. Maybe the snow has softened his fall. Maybe…

He isn't there.

No one's there.

The pavement is empty. A bell is jingling softly somewhere. I straighten up. Was this a dream?

Silence followed for the next few seconds. A confused, dazed silence that could've torture a deaf man.

And then-

"Hahahahaha!"

I crane my neck up. _Up_. Then I see the electro poof alive and well in all his glitter glory. Laughing. In mid-air. Standing firm and tall on a hovering carpet. In the middle of the air. Flying.

The carpet flutters down to the level of the window ledge so Vince and my face's are parallel. He continues chuckling away at my pathetic jaw-dropped pale face, clutching at his stomach as he bursts into further hysterics. He's alive. Vince is alive. And, suddenly, all I want…is to ring his scrawny little neck!

"Vince!" I gasp. The cold briskness of the air nips at my throat. "What the…? What are you-?"

"What does it look like?" He breaks his round of laughter to answer my question jovially. "It's a Magic Carpet, you brussell-sprout! Anyone would think you ain't ever seen one before."

"I know what it is!" I snap, still burning with fury at the cruel prank. "What I wanna know is; why are you on Naboo's carpet? And how are you even flying it? You're not a shaman."

"You don't need to be a shaman to fly one of these things. You just need a licence. Naboo gave me his seeing as he went to the Shaman party thing on his mate Saboo's carpet." Vince pulls out from one of the pockets of his green jeans a small shiny bronze card that I can only assume was the licence.

"But…you dunno how to drive one of these."

"Yes. I do!" says Vince aloud. "Naboo's been giving me lessons for the past three months. Honestly, Howard, I'm a natural. Just watch."

Before I can utter another word, Vince is down on his knees on the carpet. He grips the golden tassels at the edge as if they were handle bars of a moped. I'm not sure what he does next but suddenly the carpet zooms high into the sky. I have to crane my head up to a painful degree and still the electro boy flies out of sight to become a mere dark speck against the heavy night clouds. I try and follow him with my eyes as he zooms further along, high above the rooftops of Dalston, weaving in and out of the stars and shooting around the slumbering moon.

"**Eeeeyy! Ey! What are you doen, ya iiidjet? I'm the Moon! I need my b-beauty sleep."**

The disgruntled space-rock's moans don't seem to effect Vince as his childish whoops of excitement can be heard from here. He's working his way around the sky like a fly on acid. Yet he stays so steady and firmly attached onto the carpet. He doesn't so much as slip. He's in complete control. I reel back as he starts to fly back towards me. Something hot is swelling in my chest amidst the fear and panic. If I didn't know better I'd say it was _pride_. To think I daren't trust Vince behind the wheel of a car, or even at the handle of a cooking pot, and there he is, whizzing about through the sky like a pro. Like I've never seen Naboo do any of the like.

I'm so spellbound that I have to snap myself out it as Vince zooms back to stall the carpet in it's spot as it was before, hovering just outside the window. I look at Vince with hair wind-swept to an unearthly sized mane whilst his eyes shine with the rush of the experience. He doesn't get to his feet but remains on his knees. He keeps looking at me, eagerly awaiting my verdict as he pants out the remaining thrill. Not for the first time in my life, Vince Noir has left me speechless.

"I…I…I…."

Vince giggles. "Is that all you can say now?"

"I just…Vince, that was…" Incredible. Amazing. Fantastic. Mesmerising. "….so Stupid!"

He frowns.

I quickly continue my scolding. "You could've broken your neck! Surely there are rules about driving about recklessly. Or flying about recklessly."

A guilty smile spreads across his cheeky face.

"Well, yeah, there is. So you can't tell Naboo I did any of that stuff there. There are Traffic Witches who help patrol the skies to control reckless carpet riders. But I found out where the ones who patrol the Dalston area live and paid them off for the night with some of Naboo's stash of frogs."

I blink; "Why did you do all that stuff then?"

He shrugs but still smiles; "I wanted to impress you."

There it goes again. Just for a second.

"C'mon, I bet I did really." Vince presses me. "Admit it, Howard!"

"Well…ok, I suppose that was pretty…cool." Ugh. I never use that word. "I mean it was foolish but I was impressed. Just don't do anything like that again, little man, alright? Or I will tell Naboo!"

Vince puts his hands up. "Ok. Fair enough." He's just happy that I'm happy with him. I keep looking at him, bobbing up and down before me as the carpet moves with the subtle winter thermal it's settled on, his body illuminated by the moonlight.

In an instant I notice how he doesn't look so polished or carved out of plastic. Perhaps it's the light of the thrill in his eyes and in his hair. Perhaps it's the milky silver light dancing off the trillions of tiny mirrors in his top as well as the hem of his cape. He looked, for all meanings of the world, breathtaking. I blink again. The draught was numbing my brain, obviously.

"So are you coming then?"

What? Oh, Vince is talking to me.

"Sorry?" I ask, dragging myself out of my daze.

"I said; are you coming with me? This is what I was getting at. Me and you. On the carpet. Going off to wherever we wanted in a matter of minutes. It'd be genius! I mean, c'mon, who has their own magic carpet?!"

"Vince, we've been on that carpet a million times before."

"Actually we've been on here about five times, Howard." He cuts back, somewhat dryly. "And they've either been where Naboo and Bollo have had to pick us up from some mess we'd gotten into and we were to exhausted to really enjoy it, or when he picks up after a drunken night out and we're either to shit-faced or hung-over to appreciate it."

I'm surprised he uses the term 'we' since more often than not it's been Vince whose the one who's had to be picked up on the carpet because of some piss-up he's been on and has been unable to phone a taxi. I can scarcely remember it last being 'we' on the carpet, hiding our thumping heads in each other's arms as the glare of the stars and streetlights burnt our fragile vision. My chest begins to ache slightly with the haze of the memories.

But…the T.V. The live concert. It's all planned. I was meant to be being firm. The little kid inside of me who'd first fallen star-struck for the adventure-loving young Vince all those years ago was astounded by the magic carpet before him and was just yearning for a ride. But the mature, sensible, adult part of me was telling me to just avoid the innocent lust.

"Adventures always lead to trouble, Vince." I tell him as my mind comes out with it.

"Well then don't think of it as an adventure. Think of it like….the gap year we took during college! Remember? When we went travelling? Only this one won't be as long. And won't involve as many flasks. Please, Howard! I remember how much you loved it last time."

"I was just a kid."

"You looked older than you do now." Vince teases. He wants me to break. He wants me to just fold.

"That's not funny."

"Oh, Howard, don't you see how amazing this is gonna be? I've been planning this for ages. I've been doing all this training for it. Don't let it go to waste."

"If it means that much to you, Vince, then go with Leroy. I'm sure he'll love it."

"I'm not asking Leroy. I'm asking you." Vince speaks in the firmest voice I've ever heard him speak. He looks at me straight in the eye. "I **want** to go with _you,_ Howard."

Why me? Why always me? That's always puzzled me.

I mean, he's the Prince of Camden - according to his MySpace page. He could take anyone. He could be with anyone. Not just Leroy. Anybody. But he picks me. Me.

"I dunno…."

Vince licks his lips; "I'll let you choose the first place."

My ears prick up. "Do you mean that?"

"Yep."

"…Anywhere in the world?"

"Anywhere in the world."

"You promise?"

"Promise." He holds his fingers up with his thumb over his pinkie in the pose of a Brownie's oath.

My mind was clicked into override the second he said I could choose where we go. Anywhere in the world. Anywhere. The little kid inside still alive inside my soul was now singing. I could feel my own face beginning to light up and Vince noticed it because he began to smirk. His plan has worked. He's strung me around his little finger. I spend half my life there, I swear.

I take a deep breath. "…Alright, little man. You've got yourself a date."

Shit. Why did I have use that word?

Luckily for me, Vince doesn't notice. Or at least he doesn't care. A firework may as well have been set off inside the electro boy's body. The sunshine kid was going supernova. He started bouncing up and down in his cross-legged position on the carpet. His magic laughter rang out throughout Dalston, probably bringing several fairies to life somewhere. I couldn't help but smile. There always was something enchanting about Vince's laughter. More beautiful than the first laugh of a newborn child.

And _I'd_ made him that happy. That meant so much too.

Vince got to his feet, his face still glowing; "Let's go then! C'mon, get on."

"Hold on. I'm just gonna go get changed….I won't be a minute!"

_**Six Minutes Later…**_

I emerge from the living room, now changed into my smartest clothes. Only the best for such a night ahead. I come out into the living room to see Vince still sitting outside on the carpet hovering outside the window, his focus on one of his magazines, completely oblivious to the below-freezing temperature around him. Or perhaps Naboo had enchanted his cape to keep him warm. He looks up when he hears me coming back in and tosses the magazine back inside the flat.

He then dropps his jaw at me, his eyes moving slowly and reluctantly from my shoes, up to my face.

"You're wearing…_that_?!" He grimaces.

"Yeah. What? It's my best suit, I'll have you know." I defend my precious, rarely used garment, saved only for the best of occasions.

"You sure it's not your best dusting-rag?" He jokes, getting back onto his feet. "Bloody 'ell, Howard, you look like Dr. Who."

"Which one?"

"It's best I don't say." Vince chuckles. I just shake off his pathetic jibes. I sweep some more moth-balls off my beige sleeve. I then straighten my tie. All the while, Vince continues making tutting noises and rolling his eyes at me. As if he can talk, the pixie poof.

I move up to the window and Vince taps the carpet lightly with his boot. Somehow this makes it lower down to my level. My nerves start to lose themselves as I edge towards the window. There's quite a long gap of gravity dropping down to the pavement below. So excuse me while my hands begin to shake at my sides. I gulp. I've never been good with heights. This was a bad idea.

Before I can turn back, Vince notices my fear and moves the carpet forwards. It still doesn't meet with the ledge though. He's looking at me. He's waiting for me. He thinks I'm scared. I shouldn't be scared. I can't be scared. I'm Howard Moon. Great explorer. Man of Action. I've dealt with green witches (well, one green witch. But three times), yetis, blue midgets, a randy merman…a flimsy little carpet shouldn't get me quaking in my loafers. But it does. It wouldn't be so bad if Vince wasn't standing in front of me to see it so clearly.

He takes a step forward; "Come on. It's fine, it's perfectly safe. I promise."

I just keep looking at the carpet. A carpet on the air. No shaman this time to cast any safety spell if something went wrong. Just me and Vince on the carpet. Just me and Vince.

"Howard. Look at me."

I don't want to but I do. The first thing that gets me when I look at him is how serious Vince looks. The second thing is how considerate and patient he is. So unlike-Vince. And the third thing is that he's holding his hand out to me.

"You trust me, yeah?"

I could argue that. I could find a dozen arguments to back me up on it to. But I don't. I just keep looking at Vince's hand before me. How is something so small, so pointed and fine supposed to keep me safe on this trip. Something so beautiful and delicate-looking. They don't even look cold from the winter chill.

Something tells me I'm gonna regret this. I take another deep breath and slowly reach up my hand and interlock my fingers with his. His hand isn't cold at all. It's as warm as ever. It grips mine tight. Safe. Trusting. The warmth transfers it's way to me and, suddenly, I'm sweating instead of shuddering. My heart flutters in the moment. I'm just hoping my face isn't giving away to much to the wayward buzzing emotions bulleting their way around inside me.

"Vince, I…"

"Let's go!" He cheers before I can say anything. He then hauls me up onto the ledge, forces me to skip across the fatal gap of nothingness in between - a jump which seems to take up a whole life rather than a second - before I land firmly next to him on the carpet. Vince presses his other hand to me, steadying me before I fall against him with the overwhelming relief that I haven't fallen to my death.

I sit back, panting, feeling the firmness of the steady carpet around me by padding my hands around. The carpet feels so much bigger once you're on it. Not to mention how much safer it feels. You avoid the fear of falling over the edge by just staying in the middle. It's one of the first things I remember Naboo telling me about whenever you're on a magic carpet. And, also, NEVER look down. So I decided to look at Vince instead. He was beaming at me with a smile I haven't seen him give me in months.

"See! I knew you could do it." He pats me on the arm, proudly. I quickly regain my trademark composure.

"I don't see why there was any doubt if I could just go on a mere carpet." I reply, coolly.

Vince lets out another chuckle; "Shit off. You were close to wetting yourself for a second there!"

I can't be inclined to think of a come-back.

"Aren't you meant to be taking us somewhere I want to go?" I remind him, my mind drowning in smug. Vince nods and turns to face the front (how he can tell the front from the back is a mystery to me) of the carpet.

"So where're you off to then this night, Mr. Moon?" Vince puts on a vaguely camp Queen's-English accent. That of a butler or chauffer.

"Sydney."

His voice returns to normal. "Where does she live?"

"No. Sydney, Australia." I correct him.

"Oh, _Sydney_! Nice one, Howard. And there was me thinking you'd pick somewhere boring like…the ruins of Ancient Greece." Vince jokes back to me.

I smirk. I now think I'm actually going to enjoy this night very, very much.

"Alright then, Scrooge. If Sydney is what you want, Sydney is what you're gonna get." Vince turns back to face the front, gripping the tassels on the end again. "Now hold on tight."

Hold on. Hold on to what? I look around. There's nothing but tassels but they don't look safe to cling on to in case of falling off. I've never had this problem when travelling before, I was always semi-unconscious on the stupid rug. _What_ am I supposed to hold onto? What does-

"AAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGHHHHHH!!!!!"

"YAAAAAAAAAAHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!"

I scream as the carpet, without warning, zooms up high and vertical into the sky. The wind and snow lashes against my face as I throw my arms around the nearest possible thing to stop myself tumbling backwards. Vince is letting out the same cowboy-like howl he was last time. We get higher and higher. Faster and faster. I don't know if I can stand the rush, but at the same time I don't want to let it go, the same as I don't wanna let go of my life-line. When my mind finally catches up with the rest of my body, I notice what I just happened to find, in that second of terror after taking flight, to 'hold onto' - Vince.

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**A/N: Aaaaand they're off! So that's the story set in motion then. I know I put 'adventure' in the genre but it's actually gonna be more fluffy romance if anything :P I can't write adventure. Not without going angsty. Reviews would be very much apreciated and will add fuel to the Magic Carpet to get the boys along faster. Thanks for reading so far.**


	3. How To Speak Carpet and Whale

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**A/N: Whose that girl with the update? OMG, that can't be 'Rose'? Ah yes it is :) After a loooooooong Christmas break I was able to update this. So much for this being a seasonal fic. I'll have to drag it out till next Xmas and finish it then. That's very likely actually. But before I get back to our boys on their carpet ride, I just need to say a few things that have happened since I last updated.**

**I saw the Boosh. TWICE! Once at Wembley with the forum girls and again at Brum with my LJ family. Wembley was absolutely amazing but Brum was something else. Not only was it great to see my girls but, when we swapped our tickets at the Box Office, THEY SAT US AT THE FRONT!! I saw Julian and Noel UP CLOSE!! AJWEFJIJIWAEJIE!! Aaaaand, I'm going to see them a third time with my LJ girls again in Notts because Lu (starsofandromeda) is Win! So this is part dedi'd to her. Honestly, I never thought I'd get to see them once this year, let alone three friggen' times! Wooot!**

***straightens up* Ok now that's over, on with the fic. Can you please let me off on any slight spelling mistakes coz I was up all night doing this and I've checked through it loads but knowing me there's still slip ups somewhere :P  
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**Disclaimer: Honestly, if I did own them, then I'd have been able to get on that stage with them and do things veeeerrrryyy differently.  
**

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"_I can tell he's gonna be a joy."_

_"Give 'im a break. It's 'is first time."_

_"No it isn't. I've had to endure his big old arse crushing me at least three times before."_

"_Yeah but it's 'is first time with me doing the steering. I think even you were screaming the first time Naboo let me take control."_

"_Don't remind me. As long as he's not sick on me I've got no complaints."_

_"Why d'you think I didn't wait until after we'd had dinner?"_

"_I assumed that was due to the plan for your little date tonight, Vince."_

_"For the umpteenth time: it's not a date!"_

"_Sure it isn't."_

_"Oh just shut up and take us to Sydney, you Ikea mutant." _

"Vince?…Vince?! VINCE!"

Howard's shaking my shoulders with such force my head's in danger of bobbling off. I bat his hands off me and turn to give him attention. What's up with the batty crease now? Don't he realise I'm trying to drive here? I tug on the two of the twelve gold tassels in front of me that I'd learnt controlled the altitude and acceleration. Now we were quite high up (high being the height of a travelling airplane) it was ok to slow down. Enough to stop the wind beating us in the face and messing up our…well, my hair. Surely anything it did to Howard's would be an improvement.

We'd taken off with a good jump start high into the sky. Howard had thrown his arms around my neck as if the carpet would've actually thrown him off with the force. Bless him, he really doesn't have a clue how this baby works. Mind you, I can't say I'm that much of an expert. Just don't tell Howard though. I have to let him be as confident in me as possible if I want him to stay with me on here tonight. Even getting on the carpet, back at the flat, the poor sod looked terrified. I know I could've taken the piss. Maybe if Naboo or Bollo had been around I might have. I didn't though 'cause Howard, as much of a coward that he is, he's still my mate. And he needed me to be a mate to that he could trust. That's also why I didn't mind him so much clinging to me as we rose into the air. In fact, I kinda liked that I'd made him feel safe. Well I have saved his neck enough times, but once we were in the air I had to remove his arms before he broke mine.

"What's a matter?" I ask, tugging another tassel to engage the auto-pilot for a moment before turning to the flustered looking Howard (nothing to do with the wind. He always looks flustered looking.)

"You looked like you were in some sort of trance. I've been calling your name for the past minute." He complains. I can't help but grin. _Talk about the tables turning._

"Well I'm trying to concentrate here if you don't mind. This isn't as easy as it looks."

"You're just tugging a load of random strings."

"Exactly."

He shrugs, unimpressed. "So what's so difficult about that?"

"Do you know which tassels control which functions?"

Howard opens his mouth to speak but after about five seconds he closes it again. _That's a 'no' then. _I can't help but giggle. Not so much at his failure to reply but more so for how cute he looks with his jaw hanging open. Even more so when he closes it and crinkles his brow in a frown. He hates being made to look the dumb one in our little duo. He reckons that's supposed to be my place because I'm so ditsy. I am, to be fair. But that's just what makes it all the more fun to get one over on him.

We're now so high above the world that the clouds are more or less tickling our scalps. I could raise the rug to fly above them and keep us safely out of sight from any star-gazers. I should know, I'm usually one of them. I love to sit on the roof and just stare adoringly at the twinkling diamonds embedded in the mauve blanket above me. Not that I'd tell Howard though. Firstly 'cause he thinks I just like watching MTV if I'm in or just going out to a nightclub. It'd probably set his brain alight that air-head Vince Noir actually likes to just sit on the roof, look up at the sky and just think. Also, secondly, because I think he's to traumatised from the incident that happened between us last time we were on the roof to wonder as to why I'd like to go there again, let alone join me. So I just sit there alone, either in peaceful silence, or engaging in a retarded babble of a conversation with the moon. And - getting back to the point here - many a time I've sat with my head rolled against the chimney and spotted either Naboo or his Shaman mates on their carpets, gliding between the gaps in the clouds.

But I'm not to bothered if anyone down below does see us, as I take the controls again. Perhaps it will restore a few lost souls beliefs in Santa Clause, only now convinced that he's replaced his trusty sleigh for a Persian carpet and shot all his rein deer in order to feed his work force. I just don't want to go above the clouds yet because England looks so beautiful from up here. Just look! Well, you obviously can't look if you're reading this so in that case I'd say get your own magic carpet and take it for a spin. Then look down and you'll see what me and Howard are seeing now. It's genius! All those billions of lights from houses thousands of miles beneath us like fallen stars from space. I almost wanna put the brakes on and just hover for a moment whilst I trace my finger in between the lights to draw shapes like I do when I'm stargazing. I turn to look at Howard, to see if he's doing the same thing.

Surprise, surprise. He isn't. I sigh, rolling my eyes and pulling at the tassel at the corner of the rug.

"_Gonna talk to misery-guts. Just switching to auto-pilot for a bit."_

_"Auto-pilot's on. Dunno why I say auto-pilot. It's not really auto-pilot, is it? It's just moi doing all the 'ard graft-"_

The feminine voice rambling away gets quickly pushed to the back of my mind. With the carpet in safe hands of itself I turn around to face Howard whose sat in the very centre of the carpet with his knees tugged up as close as possible to him and a closed-off look on his stony face. Typical. The most romantic (of course I mean that in the exciting sense) way of travelling anyone can use and he looks like he's been forced to ride a camel with indigestion.

When he see's that I've taken my hands away from the steering, his eyebrows nearly shoot right off his forehead. He skids forward on his knees, still determined to keep as far away from the edges as possible.

"What you doing?! Why ain't you concentrating on the r-..sky?" He corrects himself, all set to have a heart-attack apparently.

"Would you relax?" I laugh him off, crossing my legs. "It's not as if we're in the middle of rush hour 'ere. Even if there are other people on the thermals, there's more than enough sky for all of us up here!"

"But what if a plane or a…eagle comes along and you're not looking - then what?!"

"Then Chandra will just dodge it!"

Howard frowns; "Chandra?…That's the _carpet_?"

"Yeah." Christ, he's so slow. "I wouldn't have thought she was a Chandra though. More of a Nichelle or a Kimberly. She says she likes Chandra though."

"It…_she _told you that?" Howard blinks frantically. He looks like he's struggling to contain a laugh.

Why does he always have to laugh at me all the time? Does he honestly think I'm just a bimbo?

I nod at his question anyway and don't let my face give away my hurt; "'Course she does. It's one of the first things you've gotta know when learning how to ride - 'cause you're only as good as the rug supporting you. That's what Naboo said."

"What d'you mean 'getting to know her'? She's a carpet!"

"Yeah but that doesn't mean she don't have a history. Y'know, she still had a place where she was made, enchanted, a birthday, previous trainers. Not to mention all the places she's been to. Once you get to know your carpet personally, the rest is pretty much a doddle. It's all about trust."

"Oh…"

A pondering look spreads over Howard's face, somewhat replacing the tense constipated frown he had before. I don't like it when Howard has ideas. They normally lead to either him or both of us about to be killed. Before I could open my mouth and tell him to forget whatever he was thinking of, he shuffled forwards to the front of the carpet, nudging into what had been my place at the 'driver's spot'.

"Well if that's the key to driving these things that it shouldn't to hard for me to learn either!" says Howard with a hopeful grin springing up in his cheeks.

Oh Shit. I should've known this was gonna happen.

I'm instantly on my knees; "Howard - no way!"

"If you're able to charm this old Sultan's curtain then it shouldn't be any problem for a pleasure diva like yours truly. I'll just use the same old Maverick magic!"

"Howard, I mean it! Just let me handle it-"

"Simmer down, chewy cheeks." Howard puts up a hand to silence me. He then faces the front and cracks his knuckles in preparation. "Sit back and watch the Power of the Moon work it's wonder!"

If Bollo was here right now I think we all know what he'd say.

Howard grips at two random tassels and already I have to slap my hand over my forehead.

"Right then, Miss. Chandra, hello. My name's Howard Moon, it's nice to make your acquaintance this Christmas eve. From now on you'll be under my control so I don't want you pulling any stunts. Howard Moon is not one to be messed about with. You'll do as I command because I'm the dominant one here, is that clear? Good! Now I'd preferably like to get to Sydney before New Years so let's quicken the pace a bit here, shall we? That's a good girl. C'mon, giddy up- AAAAAAARRRRGH!"

I remove my hand. Just in time to see a blur of tweed and beige mixed with a god-awful howl. _Idiot._

The front of the carpet gives out a sharp buck that tosses Howard forward before I can even attempt to make a grab for him. He's sent flying forwards, headfirst, off the carpet and over the front with his hands clinging to the tassels that I'm amazed can hold his weight. His scream when he's thrown off drawls on to just become a high-pitched whimper. I scramble back to the front and peer over to see the fashion disaster clutching the tassels that are wriggling violently in his hands - presumably to still try and throw him off - whilst his face is scrunched up with terror, pathetic mewling escaping from his lips as he refuses to open his eyes to face the 30,000 ft drop beneath him. I don't know whether to combust with fear or let my sides split with laughter. My body obviously opts for the latter even if my trusty brain-cell doesn't.

Howard finally squints up to me just when I've got my hand over my giggling mouth. His eyes of sheer horror blaze into rage. I know I shouldn't be laughing….but, fuck it, if you could see his legs - as if they weren't funny enough on their own - when they're flailing about in mid-air it's just hilarious. What a spazz.

"Alright?" I ask with a grin. His eyes glower up at me, his teeth grinding painfully together.

"Does it look like I'm alright?!"

"Not really…Looks like I should ring up the weather channels and get them to report to risk of golden showers over East Anglia!"

"I could fall to my death and you're _laughing _at me?!" He spits savagely.

I nod, not even guilty. I'm only sniggering though. He should be grateful I'm not rolling on the carpet in a fit of laughter which is what I really, really want to be able to do. He frowns even harder and tries to pull himself up but the carpet is still resisting.

"_There's no way I'm letting him on, Vince!"_

"_Oh c'mon, Chandra, you can't let him fall to his death."_

_"Sure I can. I've done it before to a number of arseholes who have tried to drive me."_

_"Howard didn't mean to be like that though."_

_"Did you HEAR how he spoke to me? Did you see how he…**touched **me?! That was so demeaning!"_

_"He doesn't know how it works with you. Give him another chance. Let him back on."_

_"He's a dickhead."_

_"I know but let him back on. Please. For me."_

"Now what are you doing?" Howard whines up, still trying to claw himself back onto the carpet.

"I'm trying to get her to let you back on and not drop you to your splattered death, you freak." I tell him. He gives me another incredulous look but keeps quiet all the same. I turn my focus back to Chandra. "_OK….Fine. That's alright…._She wants you to apologize."

"What?" Howard reels back. The best you can do when clinging to a flying carpet with oblivion below you.

"Just say you're sorry for speaking to her like a horse."

"I didn't, I…oh fine then." Howard cringes and looks at the carpet. "I'm sorry for speaking to you like a horse, Chandra."

"_Madame _Chandra." I prompt with a smirk.

He glowers up at me. "…Madame Chandra then. Can I come back up now?"

I wait for her response. When it comes I feel another surge of laughter bubbling up in my tummy again. Howard sees the light in my eyes and his face drops.

"What? What did she say?"

My lip curls as I look at him; "She says you have to kiss all her tassels to make up for groping them like you did which hurt her. Kiss them better."

"Hurt her? It's a **rug**!"

The carpet bucked again, only slightly, yet enough to send Howard squealing once more.

"Ok! Ok! I'll do it." Howard conceded. I watch with growing pleasure as he pressed his lips against each of the tassels at the end of the rug. I shake my head. So sad how those lips of his are getting more action on a night with a few strands of fabric then with any other object or person throughout Howard's life. Such a shame really. Especially when you notice how supple and full his lips look. His bottom lip is so enticing. I bite down on my own, imagining - just for a split second - how his would taste.

"…_Vince? Vince!"_

I shake my head roughly.

"_What now, Chandra?"_

_"I said; you can get him to stop now. This isn't as fulfilling as I imagined. He's an awful kisser."_

_"Oh 'e ain't that bad. Just needs a bit of practise is all."_

_"Says the voice of experience."_

"…"

"Right. That's all of them." Howard sighs bitterly. He looks at me. "Can I climb back up now?"

I'm still not entirely finished. "What' the magic word?"

"VINCE-I-SWEAR-TO-GOD-"

"Close enough." I grip his hand and somehow manage to heave him back onto the rug. Chandra helps by bucking him up again. His arse is soon placed back on the foreign material. I watch him try and gather himself back together, jittering in his spot as if it were the coldest night of the year - which, to be fair, it is, but we've got the carpet heater turned on. He refuses to look at me anymore. I just shake my head at him in the same way a mother does to a child who falls of the bed and hurts his knee after spending ages ignoring his mum's orders to stop jumping on the mattress. He's learnt his lesson now, surely. That 'motherly' feeling stays with me as I move over and find myself about to hug his arm.

"Don't touch me." He snaps sharply and flinches away.

I'm then brought back down to earth. Or at least tens of thousands of feet close enough to it. Strange how he didn't say that when he needed my hand to pull him back up to safety. I sit back before I get a chance to comfort him. Not that I should. He was asking to be put through that with having, once again, to try and act the Big Man. I don't think he realises just how embarrassing it is. Not to mention dangerous. How many times have we almost died because of his need to fill his ego? Uh…one…five….eleven…Sod it, I'll count later.

Neither of us speak for a long while after that. We both just sit at different ends of the carpet, both with our knees pulled up to our chests, staring. Howard stares off over the side with a morbid sulk at the wisp of inky clouds passing us by, whilst I stare at Howard - waiting patiently for his mood to cool as it normally does after he gets wound up or has one of his dozen-a-day failures. I start to wonder if, just maybe, he's looking at the dark clouds that part to try and pick out shapes with his mind like we used to do. Honestly, we did! Years ago at the zoo. Not even that far back even. I think the last time we did it was the night we moved into Naboo's flat and we both sat up on the roof together with a bucket full of popcorn, our heads lolled lazily against each others, dark purple fluffy elephants, dolphins and kangaroos with boxing gloves floating above us.

I start to feel really rotten. The whole point of this plan was to give the two of us another night like we were back then. Only we're not snuggled up close to each other; we're sitting far apart and shutting ourselves off. We're not chatting and bantering away about silly little fun ideas; we're in complete silence. This isn't what I wanted. And I know it's partly my fault. I should've stopped Howard from making such a prat of himself. That used to be my constant mission of the day, every day. Howard was just never safe when left to his own devices. As much as he likes to think he's the brave strong pillar, it's me whose the one trying my best to protect him from himself. At least it used to be. When did I stop bothering and started to leave him to it to suffer for his ridiculous ways? When did I stop caring?

"_Could cut the atmosphere with a pair of trimming scissors."_

"_Tell me about it…"_

I need to speak. I'm always the first one to speak. It's like my job. Here it goes. Wish me luck.

"Howard?"

He doesn't reply.

"Howard?"

Nothing.

Third times a charm.

"Howard?"

This time he at least cocks his head to the side and onto his shoulder so his eye contact is further away from me. So he can hear me. Ah. We're playing that game now, are we? Great! I love it when we do this.

"Howard? Howard? Howard? Howard? Howard? Howard? Howard? Howard? .....HowardHowardHowardHowardHowardHowardHowardHowardHowardHoward-"

"What?!" He finally looks at me.

My lip curls in triumph; "D'you reckon the Queen has her own magic carpet?"

He stares at me with that look. The one where he basically doubts my being real. Oh, c'mon, that question wasn't as random as the one I asked about bananas and spider eggs, surely. Yet he looks set to boil as he glares at me. I just grin. 'E don't 'alf look sexy when he's angry. Fuck, that was a weird thing to think. But, hey, it's true. Anyone could notice it, I just happened to be here.

"…Well?" I poke him in the arm. He winces again, annoyed at his precious physical boundary being broken. I do it again and he bats my hand away. Then I can see it. A flash. If I'd blinked then he might have gotten away with it. But I saw it. It was there. A hint of a smile.

I shuffle just a little bit closer to him, still waiting for his reply. He sighs; "I reckon she must do. She is the Queen, after all, she's gotta have her own personal shaman on hand for emergencies. She's probably got six of them."

"D'you reckon we could go to Buckingham Palace and challenge her for a race? I reckon us on Chandra could whoop her arse. Now that'd be something for The Guardian, wouldn't it!"

Howard's smile grows slightly and he nods. That, in Howard body-language, is the equivalent of a human laugh, just so you know. Seeing a real laugh come out of Howard is about as likely as Bollo winning X Factor (considering he didn't even get passed the auditions…cor, that was a dark day). For now Howard wants to play the act that I'm just annoying him as usual. Distracting him from the important art of…staring into nothing.

"Howard?" Again it's down to me.

"Yeah?" I'm thankful he doesn't snap that time.

"We're gonna have fun tonight, y'know."

"Really?" He groans. "Just tell me when it will start then, Vince."

There he goes again. It's getting to the point now where I can't be arsed to keep trying with him. After all that, he's just shuffled back into the centre of the carpet, holding his knees and looking to the side at the passing clouds. I look over the side and peer down to see that we're now over water. The ocean. Don't ask me which one. I just know there are seven of them. Or is that seven seas? Is a sea the same as an ocean? Maybe I should ask Howard. But I think I've already used up my annoying useless questions of the hour. I'm only allowed to ask him two every hour and the other one I asked just before we closed up shop where I asked him why does the word 'lisp' have an s in it. Yeah, he didn't know either. He likes to act like he knows more than me but he doesn't. If anything, I'm the smarter one of the duo. Not book smart but street smart.

Wow, look at all the stars coming out. There's hundreds of them! They're all winking down at me as if saying "Wotcha!" in star language. I'd love to learn that. That must be how they all speak to each other. I wonder why there's more over this part of the world - wherever we're flying over by now - than in London. Is that much of a stupid question? Nah, I don't think so.

I ask Howard before I dare to think anymore of it. Thinking is such a waste of good social time.

He looks at me with his usual frown as if I've just asked another one of my pointless and random (at least that's what he calls them) queries. Then he looks up and around to actually notice what I'm on about. He blinks and his jaw drops slightly. Even his hold on his legs loosens. I can tell he's just noticed them properly as well as his eyes begin to twinkle. Cor, it's been ages since I've seen them do that. It sounds silly but, looking up, they really are so beautiful. I don't think either of us have seen the night sky this clearly before. Except that time we went to the Planetarium on a school trip. Though I think back then we spent most of the trip trying to escape from the cleaner's closet that some bullies from Year 11 had locked us in. I forget how we actually got out of there. I forget a lot of things. I would ask Howard but I'm still waiting for the answer to my last question.

"S'beautiful, ain't it?" I ask him softly.

His gaze is fixed to the cosmos. "Yeah, it is. Never realised it before…"

"Not even when we were there? When we were coming from Xooberon." I chide.

"I think we were both too busy regressing to notice anything."

"Oh yeah." I laugh, only faintly remembering that as well. I can just recall one minute drinking that water, then everything getting bigger, then suddenly going dark. That's it. See? I'm terrible. And that was only a couple of years back. "So why are there more of them here then over London? Stars, I mean."

Finally he looks at me; "There's not more of them here, Vince. It's just the pollution over London makes the smog thicker and blocks out a lot of the sky."

"Ugh. That's disgusting. Is that why you're always going on about recycling? I'm starting to get the point now. I don't want the sky to get even more gross so we don't get any stars."

"Well that's not really the main…Never mind." Howard forgets whatever he was gonna say next.

I frown at him; "Why do you do that?"

"What?"

"Why do you never try and tell me stuff?" Dunno why I'm asking. I know the answer. 'Cause he thinks I'm a complete dunce. That I wouldn't understand.

As I thought, Howard scoffs; "Vince, I'm always trying to tell you about this stuff! But you're always more interested in reading your little Enemy magazine and listening to Gary Sodding Numan."

"It's N.M.E, you nonce. Not _Enemy_." I laugh, making a mental note to tell that one to Leroy. "You really are such a loser sometimes."

"And there you go again." He snarls at me. "You wonder why I don't bother explaining things to you; it's because you act to much like a child all the time with your pathetic little insults."

_"Uh, Vince?"_

"I'd rather be a child then an old geography teacher bringing embarrassment to everything I touch!"

"_Vince!"_

"Don't start insulting geography teachers. I'll have you know I'm descended from a long line of great geography teachers. We're a proud dynasty, sir! From all over the world. Which helps."

"I know you are! You've always fit the part. I remember at school, if you ever walked into the class late, all our mates would go quiet coz they were waiting for you to start the lesson and get out your earth-ball."

"It's called a globe, you electro berk!"

"Whatever. Why didn't you follow your precious dynasty then?" We're really letting rip at each other now.

"Maybe I will. Maybe I'll pack my things and go back to Leeds."

"_Vince, can you even hear me?"_

I can hear her but I'm ignoring her, just for a moment. My stomach is tightening and gives a sharp twist as Howard lets out his threat. I don't even know by now if we're teasing or being serious. It's always a line in the sand with us. I'm never sure when or if we actually ever really cross it. Howard does look serious though. If he's serious then I'm serious. I'm not gonna be the one to let up.

"Fine then. Go back to Leeds. See if I care. I'm sure our band will get on better anyway. It's only me people look ever at on the stage anyway."

"There you go then! We'll all be happier."

"I'm sure we will, Professor." I sneer before cocking my head to the side, "Chandra, take us back to London."

_"Get stuffed!"_

I reel back.

"_What?!"_

_"There's no way I'm doing all that journey again."_

"…_But-"_

_"Haven't you heard a word I've been trying to say to you? Look in front!"_

I straightened up to look back again over the side. Before I can see anything clearly, other than the silhouette of land and lights appearing, I can only notice that we're going down. Then once I've noticed it I start to feel it. My stomach drops and I cling to the tassels to regain control. At some point in my panicking I let out a really girlish yelp. Except…it wasn't me. I turn my head back to see Howard now having to steady himself on the carpet, also feeling the drop physically.

He looks at me, his eyes ablaze. "I said take me back home, Vince. Not 'drop us in the middle of no where'! Sort this thing out."

"Don't start speaking like that or she'll buck you off again." I call aloud. Why am I yelling? Oh yeah, my eyes have just gone. That's bad enough of airplanes.

Howard gives me another odd look; "Didn't know you cared." He's also yelling now so his ears must have gone to. Not that they're actually _gone_, they're still on our heads, it's just that sound seems…thicker all of a sudden.

Of course I care. What is he, a muppet?

"I'm sick of this…Just take me back to London." He groans. His face goes all dazed and he looks like he's about to throw up. It's a good thing we're still over the sea.

I take another look over the side. I can feel the features of my perfect face lift as it hits me where we are. All the irritation and resentment I had for Howard barely a minute ago seems to have sod off. I burst into a grin and turn back to him. The carpet finally lowers to just hovering barely ten feet above the sea level. Howard leans over the side and releases some vomit to the poor sea turtles travelling below the surface. I cringe at the sound until the smell of salt water washes over me and refreshes my lungs-

Shit! My hair's gonna get ruined!

I look into the pockets on the inside of my cape (sewed them in after the Donny incident) and realise, whilst giving myself an internal kick in the head, that I've forgotten to bring a hat. I suppose I can pick one up somewhere along the line. My heart starts to race as I think of the salty breeze getting into my divine hair and making it greasy. Oh well. I suppose it can never look as bad as Howard's. I look over to him just as he's bringing his head up after spilling his guts to the poor travelling sea-turtles below. He sits back with his hand on his stomach and his eyes glazed over.

"Since when have you been sea-sick?" I ask him. "I thought it was airplanes that make you ill."

"I'm scared of flying, Vince, whether it's in an airplane or on a rug." His voice is still quite bitter towards me but not as much as before when we were high up and ready to toss one another off the carpet.

"You've never been sick on here before."

"That's 'cause we've always been with Naboo. I didn't have any reason to be afraid, did I." He tells me tiredly.

I frown, his words tumbling in on me. Naboo makes him feel safer than I do. He trusts Naboo more than he does me. How does that work? I'm his best mate. Sure we get in some freaky situations together but if anything I'm the one to get us out of them, not make them worse. Naboo doesn't even like him that much. Then again, Naboo doesn't really like anyone that much, though he still comes through for us when we need him. He's such a strange one.

Howard sits up, straightening out his ugly suit so it only looks like it's been crumbled at the bottom of a washing pile for two weeks rather than six. "So are going back to London then or what?"

"You sure you wanna go back to London?" I smile again, my eyes wavering to the sight rising over Howard's shoulder. Wow.

"Yes. I do. This was a stupid idea and I wanna go home. Nothing is gonna change my mind." He says firmly, completely obvious.

"You sure about that?"

"…Yes."

He doesn't get why my mood has changed.

"Really sure?"

"Vince, why the hell are you looking at me like that?" He cringes as if I'm giving him the 'rapist eyes' that are meant to be his trademark look. My lips twitch and I nod my chin up.

"Turn around."

At first he stares at me. Probably expecting me to 'do a Bainbridge' and burst into a rendition of Bonnie Tyler's _Total Eclipse of the Heart_. Then he turns around to look behind him. Somewhere along the ride, Chandra swirled and turned around so that Howard's end was the front. Now we're gliding through the air above the water of a large open harbour. A famous harbour. One that the both of us had only seen before on the telly. Howard doesn't turn his head back to me. He just keeps on staring. Sick of getting no reaction from the back of his head I shuffle forwards to sit beside him to view his profile. If the look on his face when he saw the open sky and stars earlier was a look of awe - then Jagger knows what to call the look on his face now. His jaw has dropped. His eyes wide to the size of almost a normal persons. Even his lips are twitching into a….no way! Is he actually gonna smile?

Christy. He does as well. Howard Moon is actually smiling. Properly! Not a repressed or reluctant smile. A genuine grin. My heart starts to flutter at seeing him so happy. Who can blame him? It really is beautiful. And who can blame me for being so chuffed at seeing him smile? He's so gorgeous when he smiles. I grip his arm again and, this time, he doesn't shove me off. He feels me touching him though and he looks at me. He's still smiling. We both are. Our eyes are both shimmering (well, his are. Mine always do so I don't need a mirror to check). The nearing city lights illuminate his face in an orange aura. It really suits him. We share a laugh, our previous row forgotten. What were we fighting about? Where we even actually fighting? Oh who cares.

Still hugging his arm, we turn our heads to face the scene in front of us again. Chandra takes us closer towards the harbour. The odd pointed building that I've always seen in snapshots of this place sits illuminated on the edge of the water in front of the dazzling city skyline behind it. The wind whips through my hair and I don't even care. Not that much anyway. Not so much that I vow to kill the wind. We're here. Sydney.

"Genius…" I breathe aloud. I feel Howard nod his head slowly beside me.

Something catches the corner of my eye. I look to the right to see another wonder, now breaking the surface of the water, that takes my breath away. I prod Howard's arm reverently, not wanting him to miss this.

"Howard, look!" I practically bounce, getting him to look in my direction.

Barely twenty feet away from us, a whale's back has cut through the water, rising majestically as the water cascades off it's smooth moist skin. I've never seen a whale this close up before. Not even the peanut whale we had back the zoo compares to this. Howard's also amazed by it, his face lit up once again with that familiar child-like wonder he used to have all those many, many, many years ago when we first met.

"Oh wow…" He gawps at it. Bet he's glad we didn't go home now.

"I'm gonna wish it a Merry Christmas." I say jovially.

He looks at me, "Vince, I know you can talk to a carpet but it doesn't mean you can speak whale."

"'Course I can. I've seen _Finding Nemo_."

"Yeah about twenty seven hundred times. You've nearly worn out the dvd-player the amount of times you've made us all watch it."

"You love it really." I grin, poking him again in the arm. He doesn't reply. Because I'm right. That's another one of our codes. I turn back to the whale just as his gigantic tail launches into the air, water streaming from it's edges, hanging perfectly poised in the air for a few seconds. I sit forward and cry out cheerfully: "MMmmeeeEEEeeeeRRRYYyyyy CcccCCCcchhhRRRIIIIIiiiiiIIIIISSSSsstttmmmMMMAAAAASSSs!"

"Vince!"

"What? I told you, I can speak whale."

"Yeah, but he might be Jewish for all you know." He points out.

"Oh yeah. Good point," I agree before looking at the whale again before his tail sinks out of sight, "HHHhhhhhaaaaAAAAAAaaaaaPPPppppPPPPYYYYyyyyyyY HHHhhhOOOOooooOOOOLLLllllIIIIDddDDAaAaAaAYYYYYSSSSssssSS!" Then I turn back to Howard. "Better?"

He stares at me for a moment. Then nods.

"Don't worry, I'll teach you how to speak whale someday." I promise, nudging him in the arm. We then both face the skyline again. "So where did you wanna go in Sydney then?"

"You're looking at it, little man."

I resist the deep throbbing want to melt like a tub nutella that's been sat next to a boiled kettle. Sorry. It's just I love it when he calls me that.

Then I realise what he's just said. Oh, he was actually saying proper words. I'm looking at it? But…that would mean…Oh! No. Way.

"Seriously?" I gape at him. "The…that pointy building?"

"It's the Sydney Opera House. And, yep, that's were we're going tonight, sir."

"Wow…!" The air's all but been taken out of me. "I can't…Wait a minute," I fall, turning to him, "We both hate opera. Why're we going there?"

"They host more than just opera shows there, Vince. There's about four different theatres and stages inside. And tonight there hosting a special themed night in the concert hall. A tribute to a selection of a certain genre of music and the most renowned artists of that particular genre. It's being televised, which is why I was gonna watch it on the box…but seeing as we're here."

"Cool," I say, only just barely aware of what Howard's saying. So I don't just get to look at the genius building - I actually get to go inside as well! Fantastic. I get to sit inside and watch….

Oh. Wait a minute.

I look at Howard. Why is he smirking like that? "Uh…weren't you going to watch some…." Oh.

The penny drops. "…No…No way, Howard. No! Please, no. No."

He has to be joking. Please, in the name of Bowie, tell me he's joking! He has to be.

**~*~*~*~***

He wasn't joking.

Ten minutes later and we're on dry land again. Chandra is rolled up neatly and tucked inside one of the pockets of the inside of my cape (Naboo enchanted them so they have a sort of Tardis effect to them. If Howard broke his ankle or anything, I could probably fit him in one of them. It would just be a struggle pulling him back out amongst all the sweets and accessories I've already got stored in them). Now me and Howard are walking towards the actual front doors of the Opera House. In line to see, you must have guessed by now and screamed with terror as I did, a jazz tribute night.

Sweet holy mother Joan Jett. What did I ever do to deserve this?

I can already feel the icky jazz vibes pulsating from the place. Not to mention from the crowd of people - the crowd of Howard-ish people - who have turned up to watch the concert. My throat is starting to itch. I run my nails under my chin. It's so much warmer here than it was back home. I undo the knot around my neck and take off my cape, flinging it over my arm. All the jazz freaks turn their head towards me in confusion. I must stand out like a Nazi at Live Aid. However…there are a few people in the line with my style. Almost exactly my style funnily enough. Bright colors, cool hair, accessories...Strange. It's like a whole line of wannabe-Howard-and-Vince's. I run my fingers through my hair to check it hasn't been to damaged by the salt-water breeze. Luckily, it ain't to bad. Howard's looks a lot worse. Only that seems to just make him fit in more with his 'herd'.

He turns to me, a bounce in his step. Now that is scary. I'm the one who bounces. Howard never bounces. He's about as bouncy as a wrecking ball. He can't seem to stop smiling either. I dunno whether it's more down to the fact he's going to a jazz concert or that he knows I'm going to hate it. The almost sinister glint in his shifty ball-licking eyes makes me suspect it's the latter. I've tried to restrain myself from moaning to much but the irritation on my neck is getting worse.

"Oh, Howard, please don't make me sit through this…" I beg him. I'll get down on my knees (well, of course not, these jeans are vintage) if I have to.

"C'mon, Vince, you promised we could do at least one thing that I liked tonight."

"But _jazz_, Howard! Why does it have to be jazz? There's no way I'm gonna be able to stomach this."

"I'm sure you'll manage fine. We've played jazz funk together before."

"Yeah, and a bear almost disembowelled us. Not to mention that time that jazz cell got inside me. I almost died, remember? I don't think I've ever fully recovered, I…Howard?"

The light in his eyes had dimmed slightly during my sentence. Then I realise why. Oh shit.

"Oh, Howard. M'sorry. I didn't mean to bring that up." I say, feeling like a complete tit.

Howard shakes his head; "No, Vince, you're right. If you wanna stay out here, that's fine. I don't want you to risk anything-"

"No, Howard, honestly, I'll…I'm sure I'll be fine." Fuck. What am I saying? "And hey, I'm still alive from last time, ain't I? All thanks to the Man of Action. My hero, ey?" I grin sincerely.

Howard's smile returns. With a slight blush. "Don't mention it, little man. We won't watch the whole thing anyway, seeing as you've obviously planned more for the two us tonight."

"Yeah I have." I beam as my mind whirls excitedly.

"We'll just stay for the first half hour."

Oh god. Half an hour? That's like…five hundred minutes!

Howard obviously sees my discomfort already. He cocks his head to the side; "You alright there, small fry?"

"Yeah…Yeah, I'm fine. I can handle this. No probs."

"Maybe we should warm you up first. Just to be sure." He uses his weird sly voice. Or, as Leroy calls it, his Rapist Tongue.

I edge back from him; "What d'you mean?"

"Let's see if you can handle some…scat, shall we?"

My eyebrows hide behind my fringe. "What?…Y-you didn't say anything about scat-singing!"

"It's one of the key components of any jazz concert. Best to be prepared - _Skip Bob Jugga Jugga Skeeeeee Bob Da Wooo Skeee Bop_!" He's off before I can so much as put my hands over my ears.

Oh God. Not scat singing. I'll never forget trying to speak and having nothing come out of my mouth but that horrible nonsense jazz language. It was horrifying. I run my hands through my hair, edging further back away from Howard, who just keeps on scatting. Does he want to kill me?

"_Skippedy-do-wap! Bow bow kapow. Skiddedly di dow. Skeeeee-Wa!_"

"Howard, look, I'm fine. You can stop now."

"_Ba ba ba, skee-wa-joo-wa! Boppedy-bip Bow_!"

"Oh fuck…"

I try and run but he grabs my arm and flings me around, pulling him to his front. I try and wriggle out but, dear God, he is freakishly strong when he wants to be. I keep trying to escape but he keeps scatting away in my ear. "_Dowwa Dowwa! Skee Skee Skadoo. Bippedy-bop jabba_!" He's now laughing as well as he does. Trust Howard only to be able to laugh when he's torturing me with scat. I can't help but laugh to if only just to make it through the agony.

"Let me go, you freak. I'm all right!" I flail, kicking him lightly in the shins.

"You sure?"

He stops scatting (thank fuck). I expect him to let me go but he holds me tighter against him. Probably expecting me to run off, jump into the water and swim as far away as possible. I let myself to limp against him. "Yes!" I sigh. He still doesn't release his grip on me. My head rolls back against the crook of his neck. He's wearing cologne…I know that smell? He…he's wearing the cologne I got him last Christmas. The one I got special from Jean Claude Jacquette.

I look up to meet his eyes looking at me. It's remarkable how much his face has changed in just the past half an hour. To think what it was like before; the look that could've made Medusa scream with terror. His eyes are so much bigger now. So much warmer. Like his arms. His hold is so toasty and snug. I feel so small…and yet so safe. It almost feels weird when they finally drop me and my feet touch the ground - I hadn't even realised he was holding me up that much. We smirk at each other again before turning to face the doors to the Box Office to get our tickets (no doubt there'll be loads on offer). Some girls in the line who were dressed like me were staring at us…and laughing. If you could call it that.

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

Quarter of hour into the show and already I feel faint. The tribute act at the moment are doing some sort of resemblance to 'Jack Coustoe' or whatever his name is. I so underestimated this. The theatre itself is enormous and beautiful. I'd love to come here to see any other type of performance. Even an actual opera. Though, to be honest, I don't hate opera as much as Howard thinks I do. In fact, I once went out with a girl who dragged me to see _Carmen _with her…and I cried. I didn't have a clue what was being said or sung about but, for some reason, I was weeping like a baby by the end. Safe to say my date didn't contact me after that. Probably convinced I was gay. Also unimpressed that I used her dress as a tissue.

I'm not allergic to Opera though. Jazz is a whole different pair of Chelsea boots. There's no real melody. There's no continuity. It's just primal music shapes floating about randomly. It freaks me out. But I look at Howard and by his face it looks like he's just been given a blow job. He says he likes jazz because of the lack of rules and boundaries. How the hell does that work? A man as anal as him, who makes villages out of stationary and sections it all off, to enjoy a type of music because of it's 'freedom'. I swear I'll never understand him. It's kind of sexy though to be honest. He's such a mystery. Intriguing. I'm surprised girls don't find that attractive. Perhaps they would if they took a chance to see past the roll-neck shirts, jazz fixation and moustache.

One of the songs finishes (I'm surprised these things have beginnings and endings) and the crowd which fills only two thirds of the hall gives a round of applause. I give a half-hearted clap to be polite. If I was any less of a nice person I'd be heckling my tongue out. After clapping, I sit back and give out a sigh of relief that we must be about half way through our time. Howard stops clapping and looks at me.

"Still alive?"

I smile and nod, "Just about."

"You do actually look a bit pale there."

"I might just need to get some air. It's nothing."

Like I said before, I like it when he worries about me.

"…Look, Vince. You really don't have to sit through any more if you don't want to me. I mean it, you can wait outside. Appreciate the scenery, whatever. I don't mind."

"Nah. I mean it, Howard. I said we're gonna spend tonight doing stuff together and that means this as well. It's no problem."

"Seriously?"

"No, I'm out of here." I give in, getting to my feet. "I'll meet you outside when you're done."

He nods at me, rolling his eyes slightly. C'mon, did anyone actually think I'd be able to sit through a whole half hour of this? No? Thank you. I leave Howard to his precious jazz and am happy to be able to leave guilt-free. I don't have to squeeze through a lot of jazz freaks before I reach the doors and am able to walk out of that place. Free.

I have the leave the entire building to rid myself off the jazz vibes. I can feel them crawling all over me like when Bollo gets fleas and they catch onto me. Shuddering, I make a break for the nearest fire exit and take in an overlarge dose of clear air once I'm outside. It's really warm outside. I'm guessing it's Summer or at least Spring for the Aussies. Either that or it's just a lucky hot winter's night. Speaking of which, Howard had a hard time earlier struggling with the concept of how it was the same time in Australia as when we left England.

"It should be Christmas morning here, surely? Australia's about twelve, thirteen hours ahead of us." He'd wondered aloud. "And it only took us…what, half an hour to get here if that? How is that possible? We'd've had to have gone back in time…but that would mean we wouldn't have left the flat yet, how co-"

"Howard, we'd just ridden around the world on a _carpet _that _flies _- and you're questioning the time difference?"

He didn't ask about it anymore after that. Truth be told, I didn't really understand it myself. Hell, plenty of things happened to us that didn't seem to make any sense most of the time and we never questioned it. Life's too short. I mean there's that whole business with Howard not being able to play an instrument unless he wants the Spirit of Jazz to put his hand up his arse and wriggle him about like a puppet - and yet we play most nights in a band without so much as a post card from Howling Jimmy Jefferson. Then there's Howard claiming to be a virgin, even though everyone knows about what used to go on between him and Jack Cooper and Eleanor. Though maybe that's more down to Howard's definition of what a real 'virgin' is.

I'm glad it was still night though. I doubt this place could be as magical in the daylight. Shifting my hands in my jean pockets, cape still draped over my arm, I walk along the harbour towards the water. If there are whales around then maybe there's dolphins as well. Do they live together? Maybe I should've paid a bit more attention back at the zoo. Howard was right. There was so much more I needed to know. I wonder if we could ever go back to working there again. Probably not. I'm to adapted the Camden social scene now. It would be to hard trying to return to the animals I'd once felt I belonged with. That I grew up with. With just Howard by my side all the time instead of a swarm of fan girls and boys wanting to lick my shoes (I wish that was a metaphor). I can barely sit through a concert with Howard for more than a quarter of an hour.

But that wasn't to do with Howard. It was the jazz.

Wasn't it?

Of course it was.

Even though I wasn't looking at the performers. Or even taking in the music.

Most of the time I was just looking at Howard. Looking at how relaxed and at ease he was. Such a change to the twitchy, moody weirdo I have to put up with most of the time. Just looking at him eased my discomfort somewhat. I wasn't scared of the jazz as long as Howard was with me. He'd saved me before. Reluctantly but he'd still saved me. And I know he'd do it again if need be. Perhaps that was it. I felt weird and got all hot and stuffy because it was embarrassing the thought I needed Howard to hold my hand, figuratively, in order to brave it through. Maybe if he'd have properly held my hand then I…

Bloody hell. This Aussie air is really getting to me. I haven't been here an hour and already I'm home sick. Just shut it all out, Noir. Forget the jazz. Forget Howard. Just look at the pretty lights in the sky, in the city and reflected in the water.

Ah. That's better.

I really wish I'd bought a camera. The shot of Howard dangling over the side of the carpet was worth a gold frame alone. And the whale we spotted. And the skyline. No doubt with everything else I've got planned for tonight we're gonna need something to capture the moments. Unless we just rely on Howard to remember them all. I forget things. Did I already say that?

It starts to get a little bit chilly. I put my cape back around my shoulders. Then I think of when Howard held me. His arms really were so warm. I'd forgotten what they were like. I know I've never been allowed (apart from the odd occasion) to touch him but he's always had no problems touching me. He used to do it more when we were younger. He used to tease me with scat and tickle me like he did outside the Box Office, only he was more ruthless back then and wouldn't stop until I was in tears of laughter. He used to hold me for other reasons to. This may be hard to believe, what with me being the toast of Shoreditch, but I used to get picked on a lot in school for being…well, me. Girls loved me. It was just boys really. 'Course they picked on Howard to but he seems to have developed an immunity to it since he was really little. It used to get at me more. 'Cause I really wanted to be liked. But then I'd get my hair pulled and called a freak. Howard would find me sometimes sitting in an empty classroom at lunchtime, reading _Teenbone _whilst trying, and failing, not to cry. He'd come up beside me, just put his arms around me and suddenly-

"Oi, mate! Are you?…Oh my god, you are! It is **you**!"

My train of thought is lost when a hand claps down hard on my shoulder and spins me around. Some aussie guy in a suit is gawping at me with the same look I usually get from my fellow cockneys. The ones who wanna dry hump me usually.

"Uhm, can I help you?"

The guy, whose about mid-thirties with surfer style blonde locks, grabs me by the arms. "We were told you couldn't make it tonight! We've got a bloomin' jazz tribute fest in your place - don't ask us why. Oh Hogan's ghost, you're not gonna be able to do a whole set now. Can you just do a small feature? Loads of the audience are those who originally booked for your gig and didn't know about the change. So this is perfect!"

"Uhmm, I think-" Before I can finish with "you've got the wrong person." He cuts in.

"That's brilliant! You're a lifesaver. Ey, is your mate with you or is it just you?"

"My mate? D'you mean Howard?"

"Yeah, yeah, _Howard._" For some reason he uses air-quotes with Howard's name. "I'm a big fan of both of yaz. Wish you'd come down under more often."

I shrug. This guy obviously does want us then, "Well, y'know. We get so busy in London."And we don't get any calls to come to Glastonbury, let alone Australia.

"Now's your chance then as you're away!" The bloke slaps me on the back again. It hurts but I don't say anything even though my tongue is almost pounded out of my mouth. He gets out a walkie-talkie and speaks into it; "It's Martin 'ere. You'll never guess what! They've only just come on after all. The original act for tonight….Well, the girlish one is here anyway. He'll do?…Cool….Yeah, I know it's meant to be in the Drama Theatre but all the audience are in the Concert Hall coz it was meant to be a show….Yeah, ok." He puts the walkie-talkie away and grins at me. "C'mon, let's get you on the stage."

He now grips my shoulder and, before I can so much as struggle out of his vice-like grip, I'm being dragged back inside the Opera House. Back towards the jazz. Argh! Not again. What was up with this dude? He wanted me to perform? Me and Howard? He must have heard about us from one of our few fans in London. Never mind that most of - lie, all of - our fans are either missing half their brains, are just at our gigs to drool over me or are students who just like us in an 'ironic' way. This could be our big break. I needed to get to Howard…but this guy just kept dragging me along with him like I was some kind of suitcase.

"Uh, don't we need to get-" I start but he cuts me off again. Cor, he's rude.

"Don't worry. You're just doing a small bit. It's the stand-up bits of your show most of us love the most anyway."

"….Stand-up?" I stutter. Ok, he has got the wrong bloke. "Uh, I'm not a stand-up. I'm Vince Noir; Rock n' Roll star."

The bloke bursts into a fit of laughter as he pushes us through some private doors and down a long corridor that I don't think leads to the audience. He keeps a hold on me and looks at me with eyes of wonderment and….lust? Oh god no, not another one. I really need to get Howard and tell him we need to get out of here.

"You've got no idea how insane it is to hear you say that in front of me! You really are a legend. Go on, go out there and knock 'em dead!"

"But-"

He practically shoves me through yet another door and I fall into near total darkness. I gather myself up only to notice that I've not been shoved into a cell like I began to fear there for a moment. I'm backstage somewhere. A group of figures holding shiny brass instruments shove past me and a shudder moves down my spine. Eurgh. Jazz vibes. Even so, I was about to follow them back out the door when a stage-hand gripped my arm and turned me around to face her.

"C'mon, you're about to be called on!" She hisses at me. She then talks into her head-piece; "Yes, he's here. We've got him….Now? Ok." Then she focus's on me again. "Right. On you go!"

"I-"

She shushes me and pulls me along. Weirdly enough she's even stronger than the blonde guy who wanted to bum me. I really need to start going to the gym. She drags me to the side where I can see the stage itself before me. Empty. Awaiting me. What the hell am I supposed to do? I have to run. I can't-

A voice-over echoes through the stage. They explain the break for the jazz performers and apologizes to people expecting the planned show before. Then they say a name I've never heard of before and the stage-hand grins at me and gives me a thumbs up. Fuck. Was that name meant to be me? Was that who they confused me with? I'd never heard of him before in my life. I'm not him, I know that much.

I find my feet at last and am about to turn and run. The audience bursts into applause and a few cat-calls. The stage-hand grabs my arm and shoves me out onto the stage. I could still run but…they can all see me. The audience are all looking at me. Applauding me before I've even opened my mouth. The only one not clapping, not even to be polite, is Howard who I spot instantly. He's just looking at me, his face very slowly sinking with the realisation that it's me on the stage. Then he looks like he's wishing he had a shotgun.

The lights come down. The spotlight blazes down on me. Everything goes quiet. The applause dies. They're all waiting for me to speak.

I'm sweating already. Damn it, that light is hot. Why did I have to put my cape back on?

This is all wrong. I'm all for people looking at me and adoring me. But they won't be adoring me if I screw this up or tell them I'm not who they think I am. I'll just have to try. I've got no instruments. I can't just start singing. Anyways, they don't want a singer. They want a comedian. They want me to tell them jokes. Ok, I can do that…

What sort of jokes? What sort of humour did this guy I was supposed to be do? If he's that good then I must have heard of him but I ain't. They're looking at me. Howard's looking at me, his jaw hanging once more, only not in a good way this time. He wants to kill me. I've ruined his jazz night. Well I'm gonna be ruined myself if I don't say something soon.

Time is ticking along. I've gotta say something. What am I meant to do? Who am I supposed to be?

Who the fuck is Neil Folding?

* * *

**A/N: Ok...I credit that last line to the hilareous girls on the Boosh forum (you rule). I should point out, for those weary of RPS, don't worry - Noel & Julian aren't gonna make an appearence in this thread. All will be explained. I just needed to get Vince up on the stage somehow and this seemed the best way.**

**Also I've never been to Sydney and I've never been in the Opera house or know how it works or even if they let comedians or jazz tribute acts on :P I'm just going by Wikipedia coz I'm lazy. But, hey, this is the world of the Boosh so let's just pretend in their world, in their Opera House, it's all ok.  
**

**And a belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to everyone! Please give reviews, as they release me from post-xmas saddness.  
**

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